no I am not Arthur Rimbaud,
nor was I meant to be.
not for me the life of poetry,
and half crazed crazy dreamings

the continental wanderings
and painted friends

a more sedate and longing end
that is my lot, and not a little more

in dreams perhaps i see myself,
set sail and round about
horizon, gibbous moon and mountain slope

a name from the not too distant past
dislodged my mind a little way
what he saw I'll never see
but in the end my dreams are free.

with inspiration from toilets

some comments to help the reader:
yes, It's as easy to write bad poetry as it is to breathe, but I was just filling in an empty nodeshell whcih reminded me of a line in a poem by elliot (prufrock "no I am not Hamlet, nor was I meant to be"). Go read about Arthur Rimbaud and try to see if anything in the poem has anything to do with him !
I even put a joke in the bottom. toilets is an anagram of t s elliot. I'm not saying the poem is good but its not purposless.

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